Guild Wars: Flame of Chaos
by Peacock Lady
Summary: Brought together in haste, three sylvari are sent to investigate a disturbance between their kind and their neighbors, the Asura. What starts as a straightforward mission quickly gets tangled and complicated as their quest leads them down a path wrought with revenge, hatred, and age-old evil.
1. Chapter 1

BOOM!

That time, he felt it, even so far away from his perch in the trees, and when he turned to look, sure enough, a thick plume of oddly pink-tinted smoke was rising from the eaves of the forest. Tomas groaned, bringing up an arm to ward off the afternoon sun, and turned away…but the breeze wafted to him the acrid scent of the explosion, and underneath his mask, his eyes narrowed. That scent was familiar…

Intrigued and annoyed at the same time, he stood and brushed himself off, using his abilities to "blink" across various branches, moving nearly silently through the treetops until he came to where the explosion had originated. The place was already crawling with Wardens and even a couple Lionguard. There were a couple asura, and what were very definitely the corpses of a few more, along with the remains of outdoor lab equipment and…

Under the mask, his gaze homed in again; there looked to be the remains of seed-plants amongst the trashed equipment…plant "mines" the sylvari used in both defense and offense in the Maguuma jungle. There was something a little off about them though… Of course, if he wanted to find out what it was, he'd have to get closer, which meant being seen. Which he didn't want to do. Fortunately, sitting in the shadows above the rather grisly scene, he could hear what was going on quite well.

"I am telling you, it couldn't have been as you say. It must have been Nightm—"

The asura apprentice the Warden was talking to looked as if he were going to combust from anger, "Don't you dare demean my intellect by telling me I didn't see what I saw! I know the difference between a Nightmare Court and one of you sodding Wardens! They were _Wardens_ I tell you, and I—"

"Hold it," one of the Lionguard, a human by height and look, cut in wearily, "look, what was your name again?"

The asura still looked two steps away from venting his rage again, but snapped out, "Krewe Apprentice Slivv, Alumnus of Dynamics, protégé of—"

"Fine fine," the Lionguard didn't look as if he had the patience for any more, "just tell us exactly what happened, in your own words."

Tomas almost forgot himself and groaned aloud, settling instead for putting his palm to his face in aggravation. The guard had been doing so well in condensing the situation, up until telling an asura, "in your own words." They were going to be there awhile… and while Tomas was highly curious about what actually had happened, not to mention noting certain details it seemed many of them either didn't see or were ignoring, he had no desire to deal with any sylvari from the Grove.

There was a shattering noise, and where he had been there was only the suggestion of butterfly wings and broken glass as his magic placed him elsewhere.

It was less than twenty-four hours later, Tomas was on his way down one of the roads leading to Morgan's Spiral, when a young sylvari came dashing up to him. It was dressed like one of the runners from the Grove, and skidded to a halt as it – she, he saw, on closer examination – approached him. "Tomas Bloodthorn?"

He folded his arms, and his words came not out loud, but in her mind: _"Who is asking?"_

"I bring you a summons from the Pale Tree herself!" For whatever reason, the sprout seemed to think that would get him moving.

Instead, he wrinkled his nose. _"I'm busy. Shoo." _

"But –"

He leveled a stare at her, made all the more discomfiting from the banded mask he wore that covered his eyes and mouth, so it was impossible to tell if he was actually looking at her or not—it had been a cause of much speculation among both his guild mates and fellow Priory members. Was he blind? Mute? Disfigured in some way? Only Tomas himself knew, and he wouldn't say.

Two days later, in the Omphalos Chamber, the soul of the Pale Tree was discussing some of the events of the past few weeks with her wardens when an ethereal voice came from nowhere. It was male and impossible to tell if it was actually in their heads or echoing around them.

_"I came. What is it you want?" _

There were three of him, fanned out around her from behind, and the Wardens there immediately lowered weapons at all three… until the Pale Tree held up one hand. "No, he is right, I summoned him. Although he took his time in answering my call."

The three of Tomas each made a different indication of disgust. _"I'm not some lackey to come running. I am not one of yours." _

She only smiled that secretive, knowing smile. "So you say." Turning to the guards and others in the chamber, "Leave us. I have something to discuss with Tomas Bloodthorn in private."

It took some time – her guards were loath to leave her with a sylvari of his reputation – but finally, they obeyed, and the chamber was empty except for her and the three of him. _"Well?"_

Again that maddeningly serene smile. "Tomas, I asked you here for many reasons. I'm sure if you've been anywhere near my boughs of late you've seen some of the incidents that have occurred between my children and the asura that reside in Maguuma alongside us."

Two of them nodded, one shrugged, and two shattered and vanished – the one left standing was to the right, not in the center as the Wardens had seemed to think. _"What of it?"_

"You haven't noticed anything odd?"

_"Probably more so than your own Wardens, I'd wager." _

The Pale Tree was venturing the same, but she did not say so aloud. "I want you to find out what is going on. There's more to this than mistaken identities and random lab accidents. I sense a purpose to this chaos that we do not yet understand. I want whoever's behind it rooted out and stopped. There is enough bad blood between my own children, Grove and Nightmare – we do not need to begin quarreling with neighbors of other races. There are bigger problems threatening Tyria that need our unified attention."

He started to nod, then tilted his head, _"Wait a minute. Are you trying to send ME on a mission for you? I am not one of your lackeys! Nor some starry-eyed Grove sapling to do your bidding!" _

She blinked at him as if in surprise. "Oh? I thought you were curious about these things as well, Tomas. After all if it is nothing it should be solved in short order. And if there is something behind all these strange 'mishaps' then are you not uniquely suited for getting at the truth? I was under the impression you were perceptive and very good at what you do."

Around the bands of the mask his skin crinkled as if he'd narrowed his eyes at her. "You may requisition allies from the Grove to assist if that would help," she added. As if the company of new saplings on this sort of mission would be useful… Almost as if she read the thought, she continued, "And no, you do not have to choose anyone who is new to the world – there are plenty still under my boughs who have experience that could aid you."

That was how he found himself haphazardly wandering the Grove, fuming slightly while trying to sift through the gathering of sylvari without really having to deal with any. Eventually, his path took him to the lowest level, off the beaten track where the Wardens kept prisoners – everything from mere troublemakers and malcontents to actual Nightmare Court if they could catch any. In the entryway, three Wardens were taking turns questioning a sylvari who was, in turn, making them all obviously nervous as he fiddled with a grenade while in their presence. He was seated, so Tomas could not make out how big he really was, and had dark greenish skin and branchy hair feathered with white leaves. He wore goggles and green and brown leathers, and seemed totally unconcerned that an incorrect slip of the fingers could blow them all up.

_"I like him already," _Tomas thought dryly, projecting the thought out loud and interrupting the Warden's questioning.

Startled, they looked up, and at least one seemed to get paler. "T-Tomas Bloodthorn?"

_"Ah. Reputation precedes me again, good. I need this one's help on a mission from the Pale Tree. Step aside."_

"We are ascertaining if this one had anything to do with the troubles in the forest of late," one Warden snapped, either oblivious to what Tomas had said or who he was… or not caring.

Tomas was not tall for a sylvari, but it didn't seem to matter. He had skin that was red with a few traces of new green, a thorny-looking Mohawk of red so dark it was almost black – and now that it was getting into dusk, his natural bioluminescence could be seen in his hair and what little of his skin showed – blood-red and baleful. He never spoke, either projecting what he wanted to say mentally to others or "out loud." Now, he did the latter, so all could hear. _"Did you miss the part where I am doing this with the Pale Tree's authority, or did you miss the part about who I am?"_

That same warden, who appeared to have a stubborn streak (or in Tomas' opinion, just a streak of idiocy) refused to budge. "It doesn't matter who you are. We're detaining this one until we're done."

"Ah, this one has a name, thank you," the dark sylvari cut in. His glow was silvery-white, which contrasted oddly with his very dark skin.

The Warden waved him off, as if that was a trivial detail. "He's had a reputation for liking fire and explosions since he podded. We're investigating the likelihood of his involvement in these so-called 'random' lab accidents the asurans keep having –"

"And I'm telling you it's not me! I've been in the Black Citadel since before these things started, training with another engineer! You can contact –"

_"You'll do," _Tomas interrupted. _Come on."_

"Now wait just a second, Tomas –" the Warden started to puff up, and the mesmer's full attention fastened on him.

_"Bloodthorn, to you. You are no associate of mine. And if you have a problem, take it up with the Pale Tree."_

The engineer could practically feel the anger in the words through the air; he wasn't entirely certain if he'd heard Tomas' half of the conversation in his head or aloud. He stood up, put the grenade away, and brushed himself off, pulling a rather full pack onto his back. "Where are we going?"

Tomas held up one finger to silence him, he was watching a new procession of Wardens inbound toward the jail – at least, his head had turned in that direction and he appeared to be studying the prisoner. There were six Wardens corralling him, two in front, two in back, and one on either side. The one farthest back was struggling under the weight of an enormous hammer with a stylized skull motif; it obviously did not belong to her.

The prisoner in the center of their group, his hands tied together with thick vines, stood out from the rest. He had dark ashy skin and a craggy face, as if some of his features were formed of rough bark. His hair was short, spiky leaves that looked to be almost black but proved instead to be a deep purple, and his eyes were somewhere between red and violet, the glow he gave off a lambent poison-purple as well. His armor was dark, too dark in the shadows of the jail's path to see its hues, and unlike Tomas or the engineer beside him his gear was crafted naturally – leaves and thorns woven together to make plate mail.

_"Nightmare."_

The one word made the prisoner stop, and his head turned to pin the pair of them with a no-nonsense gaze. "And what of it?"

Behind the mask, Tomas grinned. _"You'll do, as well."_

Well, that just about put the head Warden over the edge. "No! I refuse to allow it!" one of the guards had come up to inform him of the prisoner, and his green skin was turning interesting shades in his rage, "That is a Knight of the Court! I will not let him walk off willy-nilly on some fool's errand with a Mesmer who isn't even of the Tree!"

The silence following his declaration was palpable. Finally, it broke with Tomas' odd echoing way of not-speaking: _"Keep in mind, dear Warden, if I chose, you would think you'd never captured him at all. I said, he will do. I need a meat shield and an expert on explosions. I have them. We're leaving." _

The eerie mask turned to the Knight, _"Get whatever things are yours. You too, pyro. And hurry up. I'm not in the mood to dawdle here any longer." _

"I'm not a –" the engineer started to protest again but Tomas had started off at a brisk walk, his long coat flaring behind him as he went. Hurriedly, the dark sylvari scrambled to hoist the pack on his back, things in it and his pockets rattling as he jogged.

The Knight cleared his throat meaningfully and when Tomas turned, held up his bound hands in a pointed gesture. The Mesmer sighed in irritation and pulled a staff over his shoulder; with a flick of the wrist sending a wisp of chaos magic to burn through the shackles. It bounced erringly to the Knight and the Wardens, invigorating them all briefly – an unintended side effect that left Tomas even more annoyed. With a smirk, the Knight turned to the one still trying to hold the hammer and lifted it gracefully, one-handing it over his shoulder and following, whistling as he went as if he hadn't a care in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

"You know we need supplies," it was the Knight who brought this up once they were out of the Grove. Tomas had led them both to Lion's Arch, and he didn't seem to hear the comment as he wound expertly through the crowded streets, past the traders and crafting criers.

_"Keep up, Pyro." _He spoke to the engineer instead, who was following but slightly haphazardly, gawking a bit and having to apologize to strangers he'd bumped into.

"Where are we going?" he called up to Tomas in response.

_"The Priory." _Tomas' 'voice' echoed back without a backward glance. _"We need supplies and information."_

"Huh," the Knight mused aloud, "so that part of the stories is true, hm? You really are a member of the Priory?"

That earned no response, for the Mesmer was already sweeping through the canal gate and out into Gendarran Fields, intending to cross over to Lornar's Pass and the cold mountains that housed the Durmand Priory.

An acolyte stepped up in a timely manner as soon as the Second left the Inner Sanctum. "My lady Ravenclaw?"

"Hmm? The Master cannot be disturbed at this time – "

The acolyte bowed, "Very well, if perhaps my lady could direct her attention to this matter in his stead, there is something … that perhaps should be dealt with."

"Yes?"

"There's a – a bard? What is the term your people use for a warrior-poet or –"

"A skaald?" the Second supplied, with a seemingly endless amount of patience.

"Yes my lady. There is one in particular that has been… rubbing elbows with some of our new recruits, asking questions, spinning… suggestive tales about the Cabal, my lady."

"I see." Valda Ravenclaw looked down her nose briefly at the humbled acolyte before her – it was a human, wearing their traditional grey garb with a dark purple sash that indicated he was of some rank himself in their guild. "This skaald… in your opinion. Is he any real trouble?"

For a moment, the man hesitated. "Difficult to say. He has a penchant for things that are dark and unsavory, and I believe he is more intelligent than even he lets on. If he were a Mesmer I would put him forward as a candidate to join us, but he is not."

"Interesting. He will bear investigation, then – does this dark skaald of yours have a name?"

"Samael Stormcrow."

It was two nights later, and they were back in the sticky humidity of Maguuma, and the uncomfortable, tense silence of three. Over the flicker of the campfire, Sguelaiche watched the so-far nameless Knight. He hadn't tried to murder or torment him or Tomas in their sleep, but the simple fact that he was of the Court made Sguel nervous. Perhaps worse, he could not sense Tomas at all through the Dream – not a memory, an echo, a footprint, nothing.

He jumped when the Knight leaned forward in his direction suddenly and said, "Boo!"

"Don't do that! Whoever you are."

Tomas snorted.

The Nightmare Courtier laughed, and inclined his head. "You were so deep in thought, I couldn't resist. My name is Dubhlocke, Knight of Entropy."

_"Tch." _Tomas made a derogatory mental sound that he projected for them to hear. _"Entropy."_

"Mmhm." There was an intelligence burning Dubhlocke's eyes that made the Mesmer slightly wary. "And you, Bloodthorn… so odd for a sylvari to take a surname. A bit eccentric. Like a human."

Tomas waved this off; his companion's interest in his own many idiosyncrasies was not concerning, or pertinent. _"I'm in no mood for heart-to-hearts. We need to find out what's going on here, and be quick about it." _

"You have other things pressing?" Dubhlocke asked with a wry twist to his mouth. "I'm in no rush. The only thing waiting for me is either a prison cell in the grove or a bunch of poisonous ingrates that call themselves the Court."

Sguelaiche only shrugged, intrigued by Dubhlocke's wording but willing to drop it for now in the face of the mesmer's obvious irritation. "I don't care either way. I was going to look up a new teacher before I got apprehended by the Wardens. But this could afford some opportunities to learn new things I wouldn't get otherwise. What is the situation anyway, Tomas?"

The red-skinned member of their group paused for a moment, his back to both of them, and then his voice projected again: _"There have been an increasing number of incidents in Caledon Forest and Metrica Province, and probably further into Maguuma, of sylvari attacking asura – or vice versa. Not Nightmare Court, not Inquest. Normal Krewes, normal saplings – sometimes even Wardens." _

"And how are you involved?" Dubhlocke sounded amused.

_"Because I notice things. Things that have been out of place, at a couple of the sites. Purely by accident, but nonetheless…" _

"What kind of things?" Sguel wanted to know. He'd taken what looked like the ingredients for some kind of timed charge from his bag, and seemed to be attempting to assemble it with a small set of tools. Tomas watched him for a moment, seeming intrigued but not nervous, before replying:

_"Things like… seed turrets and mines at lab stations that have been blown to hell. Not nightmare mortars, but regular ones. Except they look like … they look … wrong." _He exhaled harshly through his nose, managing to sound exasperated with no words at all. _"When we find one of these sites, if there's evidence left after the Lionguard and Wardens have stomped all over it, I will attempt to show you. I'm not sure it's anything a non-mesmer would note or understand." _

"Sorry Magister, but the Priory already sent a cleanup crew," Lionguard Kiesa saluted slightly, apologetic. "Well, they sent someone, anyway."

Tomas didn't dress like Priory, but this time when they had approached the last known site of contention, he decided pulling rank and asking nicely might work best. "Honey instead of thorns, Bloodthorn?" Dubhlocke had asked, which earned him no reply.

_"Who did they send? We need more information." _Tomas inquired of the Lionguard instead.

The leather-clad human shivered slightly. "Big fellow. Norn – strange colored hair, bluish tattoos down his face. Looked almost like a mask."

"Anything else? Did he give a name?" Sguel asked before anyone else could.

"He had a very distinctive sword. Said his name was Explorer Stormcrow, of the Priory."

Dubhlocke leaned forward, raising a craggy brow. "Distinctive sword? Distinctive how?"

The Lionguard shifted uneasily, looking to her shoulder where a very sleek hawk was perched. "It was… shaped like a giant bat. Or maybe it was one, some kind of trophy made into a blade somehow, I've no idea. Then again don't Norn do strange things like that? Trophies from hunts and such? He had rather large bird skulls for pauldrons, too. That sword was bigger than me… He was a polite fellow though. Articulate. No chest-beating or any such thing. He merely said the Priory had sent him because he was in the area, and he even cleaned up the place on his way out."

_"Did he really. How kind." _Tomas' projected tone said volumes, and none of them boded happily for the strange Norn should they catch up to him… _"Thank you for your assistance." _

"Well now what?" Sguelaiche wanted to know as they got underway again. "Hunt down Stormcrow for what he knows, or try to anticipate another attack, or…?" he shrugged helplessly, looking to Tomas for direction.

The red sylvari made another irritated noise through his teeth. _"Difficult to say. I wish I knew if there was a pattern to these attacks… I have a feeling it's neither the asura nor the sylvari actually doing the instigating. I'd give a lot to find out, though." _

There was music and sounds of clapping as the three approached the Weeping Isle in Caledon via the Mabon Market. Once inside the small settlement, the three could see all sorts of sylvari dancing and clapping, ringed around an enormous figure of a Norn, who was strumming a lute – the source of the lively music.

"Whoa, when that Lionguard said 'distinctive' she wasn't kidding." Sguelaiche muttered to Dubhlocke, who snickered.

The Norn in question was well-muscled, with blue tattoos peeking from gaps in his armor straps and covering his face, making his blue eyes look hooded and dark. His head was half-shaved, half covering the right side of his head in short waves, and his hair was a light teal color that almost matched the hue of his markings. Sure enough, slung over his back was the huge greatsword, and Sguel couldn't tell if it were metal forged like a giant bat or if it was as the Lionguard had guessed, a trophy somehow made into a blade.

"I think his sword's bigger than me," the engineer said quietly in a half-awed, half-horrified tone, which got choked laughter from the Knight. "What?" Sguel tilted his head, unsure of what he'd said that was funny.

Tomas found one of the older Soundless and was soon deep in conversation, though neither of the others could hear as he'd gone across the room. Dubhlocke slapped Sguel on the shoulder with a grin, "Wait here, I'll be right back."

"Okay…" mystified, the dark sylvari sat on a nearby stool offered to him by another Soundless, listening to the Norn's next rollicking melody while he waited. This song seemed to revolve around sailing and hunting whales, with a cadence that started quickly and slowly wove slow and mournful. When the last note hung in the air, there was a pause, then a riot of noise as the gathered sylvari applauded, many talking all at once. The Norn was besieged with requests for more, questions about what the song meant or asking him to describe where the tune had come from, with food and drink being offered all around.

It was at this point that Dubhlocke returned with two thin-necked bottles, and handed one to Sguelaiche. "Drink up. The Soundless are odd but they make good alcohol."

"Really?" the engineer shrugged and uncorked it, swirling the contents. "It's… not making any noise."

"Exactly. Soundless Liquor."

"Huh." Without another though to it, Sguel tipped the bottle up.

Dubhlocke's eyes widened; he had been sipping his. "Hey, hey, not so fast, if you drink it like that this stuff with knock you on your –"

BOOM! FLASH!

His words were cut off as a searing blaze of light blinded everyone in the room and the whole area filled with thick choking smoke. Dubhlocke got knocked out of his chair by another panicking merrymaker and rapped his head on the floor…thankfully, he'd yet to take his helmet off, but the noise of it left his ears ringing.

He waited a moment for the sensation to wear off, and gradually became aware that order was being restored as the smoke cleared. A couple people who hadn't been in the main area had gone and gotten leafy fans to try to help blow away the excess smoke, others were helping one another off the floor from the panic, calming each other down. The Norn was to the back, his head up and scanning the area, music forgotten.

Tomas made his way over, _"Are you wounded?"_

Slowly, the Knight shook his head. "No, I don't think –"

_"Good. A few toes got stepped on in the confusion I think. Now we need to find out who or what –" _he paused, seeming to glance around. _"Nightmare. Where the hell is the pyro?" _

"What are you talking about? He's right –" glancing to his left where the engineer had been sitting only a moment ago, Dubhlocke was surprised to see an empty seat, and no sign of their explosion-loving companion anywhere.


End file.
